Fire and Spark
by kilosophy
Summary: Night Cipher and his team of Dark Ops agents interrupt a weapons demonstration for Ratsworth, a high-profile weapons manufacturer in Zaun. Together with their informant, Nuria (the weapons designer and engineer), they find the mission tougher than expected. Night Cipher (c) Summoner-Nightcipher. Nuria, Razka, Ratsworth, other Dark Ops agents (c) myself. Zaun/Setting (c) Riot Games.
1. The Spark to Make Things Work

6:45. Outsize of Zaun. Classified Location. Ratsworth's Testing Area.

Night Cipher and his 17 DarkOps agents had been waiting in the darkness. Head to toe, full armor. Gas masks. Weapons at their sides. His mages were well rested, and ready. The acidic humidity in the air was a concern, and certainly he'd need everyone to check their gear when they were done.

The team had swept the area a few days ago and again some hours earlier. They had found no bugs, letting his mages do easy cloaking work. Though the significant lack of ground cover was concerning, there were numerous craters of various depths in the ground that allowed for his DarkOps team and himself to nestle in, hidden from the demonstration point. His agents were very good at their jobs, so he felt confident that Ratsworth wouldn't even know what was coming. From the information gathered from the contact, there wouldn't be even a dozen hostiles and a small handful of non hostiles, including the contact. Essentially the mission was overkill, the way he liked it. It meant a good chance they'd hit, get out, with hopefully all of them alive. Still, knowing he was up against one of the top 5 threats to Piltover… it made his heart beat a little faster and his blood run a little quicker.

"They'll arrive in 15 minutes, people," Night's words were hushed, though he felt somewhat silly for it. His mages had previously assured him that the whole crew could talk loudly at this time and no one would notice, but… still. Habits die hard. Attached to his left ear was an semi-flat egg-shaped hextech device that allowed his team to communicate with each other, within range of course.

"Recap. We know they're testing weapons, so we'll need to know what exactly is being tested before we go in. We don't want to jump the job without knowing what we're up against. Bird will observe the Demo Pit and let us know what we're going against. After it's over, wait for the signal from Bird. The second our contact points her gun at him, or if she gets threatened, we go in. I'd prefer it if our contact made it out alive, but remember that the Rat is our objective. Everyone in Team Alpha except for Bird, focus on Ratsworth. Team Beta, take care of any additional guards and make sure our contact gets out alive. Bird, no matter what happens, keep flying. We need you in the sky."

Confirmations came in through the communication device. He had a couple of Zaunites with him. They'd escaped the city, but were eager to help fight the evil they had once fled from. He felt confident. Ready. His blood was made for this. His head turns to the area in question.

 _We are the DarkOps. We can do this._


	2. Fusillade

7:00 AM. Outside of Zaun. Classified location: Ratsworth's Private Testing Area.

There used to be a forest here. Or, so people had been told. Now? it was nothing more than diseased soil and stone, unable to grow anything. Dead trunks of rotted trees dotted the landscape, along with green and black pools of various toxic sludge from previous experiments. The air was thick with toxins and a strange, acidic humidity that clung to any bare skin that was exposed. Around them, the occasional bombed hole, green river, boulder, dirt pile, and dead tree.

Ratsworth sat atop of his transportation vehicle, preparing for the weapons demonstration he had been promised. Large in the belly, but with an even larger ego. Yet, unfortunately, with an adequate brain. Nuria hated his guts, but also begrudgingly acknowledged his intelligence. Today he dressed appropriately, with a customized gas mask, fine protective gear, as well as a personalized gun on his hip. At his sides were two fully armored female serfs with loaded guns, along with two more non-combatant serfs with clipboards, ready to take notes on the action. Six more guards were just below the vehicle, guarding the area for any potential threats. All personnel were wearing gas masks and protective gear.

Nuria and two larger male serfs began hauling crates out of the transportation vehicle while a smaller female serf followed them. Together they piled out two sealed metal crates of different sizes, stacking them close to the van. The final and largest crate, however, they carried into the cleared deep "arena pit" from a previous testing blast. Hextech had been previously set up on the bottom of the pit, one of which was a visible metal ring in the center of it. Nuria looked up at Ratsworth from his perch atop of the crater's cliff edge, annoyingly high up on the vehicle. How she wanted to punch him in the face. But, that was later.

A movement off the corner of her eye. Nuria turned to look. The smaller serf was waving to grab her attention.

"Ready?" her assistant signed to her. Poor Lynn. Nuria would much rather not involve her. She was so meek, thin, and frail. Smart and sweet. Had she been a full citizen of Zaun, she would've quit Ratsworth Inc long ago.

"We need 10 minutes for the final rigging." Nuria said, her voice muffled slightly by her mask. Lynn nodded before calling out to Ratsworth, relaying the information. Nuria, the other serfs, and the two of the guards helped haul the larger crate into position.

When preparations were done, Nuria climbed up the crater with Lynn, leaving the other two male serfs in the pit together to guard the crates. Heading back towards the van, Nuria stopped next to the two remaining crates. Opening the first, she began inspecting the first weapon: a long barrelled rifle. The second larger case contained a heavier, stouter weapon capable of being held by one soldier of average height and strength. Once they were in order, she stood up.

Having no desire to even so much as glance at Ratsworth, the serf instead turned to Lynn, who watched and communicated with her boss and signed the translation for her:

"Ratsworth says, 'Nuria, do show us what you have created for me. I look forward to the results.'" signed Lynn.

Nuria nodded. It was time.

"I will now begin the anti-magic weapon demonstration. Ratsworth, although you originally tasked me to create a single weapon to deal with magical entities and destroy magic shields, it was difficult to create such a unique weapon with the specifications required. Instead, I have opted the safer - and far more efficient - approach. Two weapons, two tasks."

The serf leaned down to the first container, and pulled out the rifle. At a glance, the general shape wasn't notably any different than any other rifle. However, the ammo she pulled out of the case was clearly unique. Holding up a shell for Ratsworth to see, she slowly turned it in her fingers. Her eyes caught him pulling out a pair of binoculars to observe the dark blue-purple glowing tip. The Clipboards on either side of him were scribbling away, peering at her and the pit. Ratsworth nodded to her and signaled for her to continue with her demonstration. .

"As we know, the best way to fight magic is with magic. Thus I have designed two long ranged weapons to deal with mages of any kind. The first is the Anti-Magic Rifle, designed to harm, devastate, and kill any magical entity within close to fair range." She nodded to Lynn, who called out to the two men in the pit. They shouted in return, before turning to one of the crates they had placed in the center. A button was pressed, and the crate slowly opened.

Not even a second later, something tears through the first serf, his screams quickly silenced as the monster tore away at his weak flesh. As the looming presence of the monster was made clear: a dark furred creature, wolfish by nature. Its many yellow slitted eyes darted about, observing its environment, two of which focused on its long awaited meal. A wisp of some kind of magical residue emanated from the being, causing a sense of uneasiness in the pit. Seeing the fleeing second serf, the wolf twisted its freshly bloodied maw. Before it could kill its second target, Nuria rapidly fired from her weapon at the top of the pit.

RATTATTTATTAAA!

Shells rained down at her feet, her body jerking from the recoil, as the bullets hit their mark, pelting the beast's side with a rain of bullets. The wicks of magical residue were immediately sucked into the bullets, and not even half a second later the small bullets seemed to explode, the force of which punched the wolf into the side of the arena pit. Yelling, the serf got out of the way as Ratsworth rose, peering at the pit through his binoculars with interest. His Clipboard serf assistants scribbled away fiercer as he noted with satisfaction of the damage.

The beast's side was completely ridden with medium to large holes. Blood, bits of gore, and bits of flesh gushed from its side, and though it was not moving, Nuria knew its life had not quite ended, though would be very shortly. She turned to Ratsworth as Lynn looked at the monster in horror.

"As you can see, each bullet is built with magical hextech that absorbs other magic. However, this is unstable. It easily explodes. Though this doesn't work well against non-magical entities, the results are not only devastating, but desirable. Lynn, the shield test please."

Lynn blinked as she turned around, somewhat shaken. It takes her a minute, but she gulps and nods before signaling to the remaining serf in the pit. Upon the ground in the middle of the main center of the crater, a 20 ft diameter hextech ring begins to glow. Within moments of charging, a bubble of magical energy goes up, surrounding the single serf cowering on the floor of the arena, along with a dead monster and dead fellow serf.

Nuria lifts the rifle again, carefully aiming at the shield. The remaining serf inside look at her nervously. Serfs like him were expendable, so she wasn't terribly concerned about him or the dead one. Their only purpose was to die during the demonstration. Still, she couldn't help but to angle the rifle slightly away from him. The rifle jerks in her arms again as she fires.

RATTAATATAA!

The bullets collide into the magical shield, causing it to waver. The serf inside ducks, as if that would do anything, cowering as the shield almost breaks, but holds. He looks up, unharmed.

"As you can see, the rifle, although efficient with living magical entities, does not provide the packing power as desired by the provided specifications to break powerful shields. However, where the rifle fails, is where the next weapon excels."

Nuria looks at Lynn, who looks at Ratsworth, who nods in approval. The smaller serf watches Ratsworth as he speaks, before nodding and turning to Nuria and signed her the translation.

"Approved. The next weapon please."


	3. Shock Grenade

Cipher turned his head and peered behind his standby position behind a tree just in time to hear a horrible growling sound, followed up by a patter of fast feet from the Demo Pit. A vicious snarling sound rumbled from the Demo Pit, causing his muscles to tense up. He'd never heard anything like it, and certainly didn't want to meet anything like it ei-

RATATATA! RATATATA! Rapid gunfire!

The acidic air around Cipher began to freeze. His face steeled, his fist clenching, a shard of frozen frost appeared at his side. He peered around the tree, eyes piercing through the weak air, looking for a tar-

"Frost! Stand down!"

Bird's voice came through the communication device and cut into his mind like a knife, snapping him out of it. Slowly, he lessens his magic and puts the ice down, letting it melt into an acidic pool.

"Sorry," he muttered, "Reflexes."

Cipher sighed, leaning back against the tree as he waited. Though he knew his mages assured him that he was well cloaked, he wondered if they would've been able to save him from that stunt he almost pulled. It was fortunate Bird, one of his mages, had seen him from her invisible "Crow's Nest" in the sky.. His eyes darted up for a moment to catch Bird's current form: a mutated buzzard that was common around these parts. He always found it a bit jarring whenever she chose her disguises, as they were often a stark contrast to her long bright golden hair and feathers. As she circled above the area in the dead air, he whispered a thank you through the comm. Risk was for later. For now, he and his crew needed to wait for the signal.

"Contact's real name: Nuria," Bird's voice was saying over the hextech communication link, "There are two anti-magic weapons being demo'd. A rifle and what I hope isn't a cannon. She just took down a Sylvaas wolf with the rifle."

Murmurs amongst the group.

" _Guess that's why she wanted to be called Rifle as her contact name with us,_ " Cipher thoughts mused to himself.

"Sylvaas? Those are shadow wolves, correct?" Sierra's voice was surprised.

"Yes," Whistler's voice wasn't entirely clear through the device, but Cipher could sense a tinge of nervousness in his thick voice. He wasn't surprised. Whistler had handled shadow wolves in a previous assignment and had told them stories. Beings of pure magic, they were pretty nasty when hungry and aggravated. The only time anyone ever sees one was when it stops to eat.

"Any sign of the signal, Bird?"

"Negative, Frost." Bird grew quiet for a moment. "I have to ask..."

"What is it?"

"...is Rifle deaf…?"

"... _what_?"

"Whenever Ratsworth communicates to Nuria, he talks then someone else signs it for her."

Cipher blinks, his brows furrowing underneath the gas mask.

"I never… noticed."

"How?" Whistler's voice came through, disgruntled, "Did you have your gas mask off when you were in Zaun or something…?"

"They're switching weapons now, Frost." Bird spoke, "…It… It is a cannon."


	4. Blast Cannon

Lynn took the rifle from Nuria, its weight causing her to struggle to lift the weapon to one of Ratsworth's serfs. The other serf takes it with ease before presenting it to their boss, who inspects it and nods approvingly at its make. He straps the weapon onto himself, making sure it is secure.

Meanwhile, Nuria had kneeled next to the larger weapon case. She grunted, hefting the lid open. The cannon itself had been no small feat to make. Like a normal cannon, it had a large and long barrel, though due to its compact nature, the barrel felt fatter than most. The back was openable, complete with a lid. Two hefty bars had been attached to either side of the middle of the cannon. These bars were attached by another piece of metal pipe, wrapped with synthetic leather for a grip. Her hand slid over the top of the handle comfortably, with the other hand gripping the second handle that was perpendicular and attached on the rear of the canon, just above the "butt" of the weapon. With a hefty pull, she heaves the cannon out of its box. Using her whole body, Nuria lifts the cannon with considerable effort. Letting her back carry most of its weight, she carries it into position, aiming it at the shield. The serf inside didn't look terribly pleased.

"Lynn. Load it."

The female serf picks up a large cannister from the case. It was a cylinder, hexagonal shape in nature, with a interior of Anti-magic hextech designed similarly to the bullets of the Anti-Magic Rifle.

"This is the Anti-Magic Cannon, designed to penetrate powerful shields with ammunition far larger and potent than the rifle. I would not recommend using this indoors. Though slow to carry and slow to load, it can be carried by the average soldier and provides the kind of artillery you originally requested."

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Lynn give her a thumbs up, signaling it was ok to fire. Nuria nods, before turning around, pointing the barrel at Ratsworth, and fired.

The recoil from the canon jerked her body back nearly a foot, as a ball of hot purple-blue magical fire and raw unstable magical power shot through the air at incredible speed, leaving behind a dark purple streak as it slammed into the previously invisible shield one of the serfs had made around Ratsworth's van. The impact shook everything around the penetration point, destabilizing the immediate area of the shield, destroying it completely, and then slamming into the top of the van where Ratsworth sat.

A cloud of unstable magic poured into the air. Shrapnel from the exploded shell had fallen all around the impact zone, creating pockets of unstable scorched earth as Ratsworth's guards opened fire. Bullets began piercing her sides, legs, chest - Pain shredded through her body as she began to yell, dropping her weapon and crumbling into a heap. Her eyes stared upward at the grey sky. Her vision was growing dark, and red.

"That was for my son, you rat bastard!"


	5. Onslaught

"HOLY- She fired the canno- Contact down, MOVE!" Bird's voice blasted over the comm.

"Go, go, go!" Cipher yelled as he leapt from behind his hiding spot behind the tree. Within seconds, he and his agents were on Ratsworth's men, impaling them with magic or shooting open vital spots. It wasn't long before they began dropping like flies. Through the purple smoke, he could see the contact's prone body in a pool of her own blood. It was spreading every second.

"Frost," Bird's voice came through his com, "Enemies at 10 o'clock."

The ex-summoner turned to see reinforcements come out of nowhere. They had been cloaked, like his team were. Damn. Adrenaline shot through his veins. Ratsworth must've suspected this. He had confidence in his team, however what he wasn't confident was in the fact that there were many of them. So Ratsworth was trying to win through numbers? His earlier confidence was fading fast.

"Bird, keep flying! Sierra, Whistler, cover me!"

Finishing off his opponent, Cipher caught flashes from his team: Whistler commanding his invisible spirits around him, Sierra providing cover, Terra with his earthen shield, Driver and his huge customized warhammer. Rushing forward to Nuria's location, his agents helped defend him against the incoming fire as he brings his arm forward and begins freezing the air rapidly in front of him, forming a shield. Plowing through the blue-purple smoke, he runs in a C-shaped path around the contact, and manages to make a quick wall that would hopefully at least offer some protection to the downed contact. Once stable, Whistler and Sierra defended point. Nuria didn't look good.

"Nuria, hang in there!" She wasn't responding or moving. Quickly leaning down, he pulls off her gas mask and grimaces. Bald. Eyes half closed. Blood. She was heavier set and different than he'd imagined - thick jaw, thick lipped. Her eyes barely even registered him. Around her neck he could see it - the tattoos that showed her bondage and servitude to Ratsworth. He could hear his teammates shouting over the hextech link, however he focused his attention to the contact. Using his left hand, he takes off the glove on his human hand, and swiftly pressed two fingers into her throat, and waited.

Weak pulse, but breathing... barely. She didn't have long. Maybe a couple minutes, tops. She hadn't been wearing any armor, just a jumpsuit and gas mask, and judging by the blood most of the bullets had passed through her.

 _She's a serf._ His thoughts were wild, running like horses with no fence to keep them in. _She was going to sacrifice herself from the beginning - she never told us._

He'd heard stories of what happened to serfs, but he'd never actually met one. He knew now he'd never have a chance to ask her what her story was.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't - didn't - save you. Do you have any last words?"

She wasn't moving. Just staring. Shit. Oh yeah. He removed his gas mask, revealing his face to her. He could sense something of slight resentment in her fading eyes.

"I'm Crow," he spoke hastily, hoping she could still read his lips, "You're dying. Do you have any last words?"

Her lips moved, but he couldn't hear. He pressed his ear close to her mouth.

"...Raz..ka…."

"Who?" his eyes shifted at her as he strained to hear.

"...tell him… sorry… can't… watch him... grow…"

"Is Razka your son?"

He strained to hear her words. Lifting his head, he swiftly looked back at her. Eyes glazed over. Blood leaked from her mouth.

She's gone.

"CIPHER! Are you there?" Bird's panicked voice cut through his thoughts. "You need to find Ratsworth. His serfs died saving him and he escaped. Running at 1 o'clock from your position! Team Alpha is helping Team Beta against the army! There's so many of them!"

Cipher moved his hand, placing his fingers upon her eyelids and closed them before standing up eyes still glued to the woman's bloodied body. Lifeless.

 _She's dead, Cipher. She's not coming back._

Quickly lifting his gas mask back on over his head, he shouts loud and clear over the link. "I want a status report!"

"Rat's - *huff* - initial men have been dispatched," Whistler's voice strained, "New arrivals. Three groups of ten. - HAH! Thanks Gunman - Most- *huff* are mages."

"Most of the mages *huff* from the first vehicle are down!" Sierra's heavy breathing cut through, "We saw the Rat heading to the second van. It's bigger than the others. He must've somethin- ."

"Sierra, look out!" Terra yelled as Sierra's voice cut out. Nothing. Oh gods no. Cipher felt his jaw clench.

"Gamma, Gunman, take care of Sierra, I'm going after the Rat!" Cipher yelled, "Whistler and Terra, with me on Ratsworth!"

"Negative, we're closer to Sierra!" Whistler shouted, "Gunman, Psi, go with Frost, you're closer!"

"NO! Terra, with me! Psi can't handle that rifle." Propelling himself forward, Cipher broke through the ice, jumping through the hole made by Nuria's cannon. It… wasn't the best decision of his life.

The blast had destroyed the top and side of the van, revealing a huge gaping hole in the sides, melted bits just barely hanging on, with blood, gore, and pieces of armor painting the ground and van. From what he could see, something had created a pocket of force and thrown anything that was on top of the van maybe 30 feet away. Pockets of scorched earth and metal were around the impact area. If Nuria had aimed a bit lower, her cannon blast probably would've obliterated most instead of half the van at that range. Behind the van, he could see the top half of one of the serfs on top of the van with Ratsworth, He could see guts sprayed out, like a horror show. He didn't see any other corpses. An eyeball had rolled not far from here. He averted his eyes a bit too late. He'd probably have nightmares for some time.

His eyes catch a glimpse of the Rat running with the rifle strapped to his back, three of his mages and a rifleman were flanking him to cover for his escape. Two more of his men were running to him to protect him, however Driver and Smokey from the Alpha DarkOps team had closed in, focusing on the two stragglers before focusing fire on his remaining guards. Cipher pushed the thoughts of the bloodied contact and even bloodier horror show of the van out of his mind, forcing himself to think about the task at hand. There would be time for mourning later.

At least, he hoped.


	6. Charge Reconstitution

Waiting. Wating. More waiting. The boy turned around in his tank, his only world. He looked at himself, his see-through fingers, green body, and his tail. Monster, they had called him. He didn't feel like one. He looked up, at the now empty seats that had been occupied by Boring People, as he'd come to call them. He'd been told by Anne, the Nice One, where he was going he was going to see the Outside with the Big One, and have lots of friends, that'd they'd pay attention to him, and feed him. But none of these friends - Boring People - had really said hi to him before they left.

Suddenly, the Big One appeared at the opening of the room, panting, wheezing, and using something that the Nice One called "swear words." She had told him no matter how many times the Big One said them, to never say them himself. The Big One was wearing something the boy hadn't seen before - a long gun like the others, but there was something weird about it. The residue on it was a dark purple, almost black. It felt bad. Something bad. He didn't like the gun.

"Hi! Um..."

"Shut up!" The Big One sounded angry. Whenever he was like this, he was always red in the face, but this time the boy couldn't see what his face looked like. He wasn't sure if the Big One wanted to hurt him now too, so he curled up at the bottom of his room - his tank. While the Big One was yelling something to the person driving their little world, he let his tail wrap around himself, his large broad feet flat against the glass of the tank.

"No, get up," The Big One growled. The green boy looked up, and he could see that the top of his tank was beginning to drain. He heard the voice of the driver and The Big One exchange some words as his comfortable home began to go away. The metal room was starting to vibrate, like before. Where were they going?

"Get up you piece of shit," he was saying, "Get your fucking ass next to the doors, catch the fuck who comes through. DO NOT screw this up or else I'll shoot you."

The kid knew better than to argue. Climbing out of the tank, he flattened his body into a glob, moving his mass towards the doors and settling in the spot where he'd be instructed to before. Before completely flattening his body to the floor, he couldn't help but to look up as the Big One readied the rifle out the double doors.

There are three Strange People coming closer. One of them glowed a light blue, looked cold, and a long magical ice-blue magical residue around his left arm. Frost magic. He liked that magic, it tasted cool and tickled in his mouth. Weird, the frost one's left arm looked off, somehow. The one on the left didn't glow at all, he just had a big metal gun like one of the other Boring People. But on the back end of it was a glowing red thing. He couldn't tell what exact kind of magic it was, but based on the dark red color he could only assume it was some kind of bad smokey fire, something not safe to eat. The other one… the boy tilted his head, curious. This one was a light brown, yet dark. It wasn't like the red rust, no, but somehow.. Lighter. Creamy. Rich. He hadn't had earth magic in some time. It was hard to eat, but still tasty. He'd only seen that kind of magic a couple of times. Two more Strange People were coming, one with a big warhammer, and the other with a weird, dark smokey magic -

RATTATTATATATTATATATA!

Yelping, the boy quickly flattened himself into the floor. The Big One had fired his gun, shooting at the Strange People. He didn't see it, but he could _feel_ it - the magic of the five had faltered. Two of them had fallen, he could feel it. Some of them weren't moving anymore. They lay still, dormant. Unused. It must've meant that they were now a Dead Strange People. He wasn't sure what exactly that meant, but he knew it meant that they wouldn't move anymore, that it was scary, and all they knew now was darkness.

 _I'm scared._


	7. Overload

"TERRA! SMOKEY! DRIVER!"

"Get Rat, Frost," Terra growled as he stopped atop Driver's body. An earthen shield had manifested in his hands, "You. Faster than me. Focus!"

Gritting his teeth, Cipher begrudgingly raised his frosted arm steady as he fired off an ice shard from his left arm, aiming at Ratsworth. The fucker's van was already moving away, causing his ice shard to miss. And as far as he knew, Ratsworth didn't have any extraordinary powers himself. He was no mage. No soldier, no machinist. The most he could do was pick up the stupid gun and shoot. Such a person was powerless in the wake of Cipher's rage. He quickly jumped onto the back of the van, ready, frost spike ready, and-

"GAH!"

Something had rose from the floor of the vehicle, engulfed his lower body, and brought him down, knocking him down to his side. Looking to see what it was, it was….

 _What the fuck is that?_

A green translucent blob, spreading on his body. For whatever reason, he was reminded of Zac. It wrapped around him, and he could feel the comfortable presence of his frost magic energy being seeped out of him.

 _What kind of a sick joke is this?_

"ZACC-01-56382," Ratsworth spoke. Behind him, Cipher could hear the doors to the van shutting closed as the van continued to gain speed.

"This is our new friend. Please… give him some company. I bet you're hungry."

Looking up, Cipher finally saw the monster known as Ratsworth closeup. His gas mask and armor appeared to be in fairly good quality, and although some of his outer clothing was burned off or scratched, he himself seemed to be fairly unharmed. His build was fairly round, but now that he was up close, he realized what appeared to be fatness from afar was simply extra padding on his armor. His body structure indicated he still had additional weight around him, though this didn't mean he was necessarily lazy, or weak.

"I did my research. I knew who would come. My little spies have told me that the terrorist of Zaun from the old days had… gone places." As the Rat spoke, Cipher could feel the glob thing engulfing him further, trapping his legs and his right arm, "So take your time, Cipher. We'd love to have you back."

NOPE. Whatever this thing was going to do to him, he wasn't going to have it. Reaching the goo-thing with his left arm, Cipher immediately began freezing the green glob to contain it, preventing it from engulfing him further. Before he could smash the frozen glob off of him, he was interrupted by a tap on the side of his head. Turning, he came face to face with the barrel of the anti-magic rifle.

"Nuh-uh. Stay still. You wouldn't want to be shot, believe me. Ask your dead comrades."

Cipher gritted his teeth. He wanted to speak, but also was keen on avoiding being shot by the rifle, if possible. Still, Ratsworth was stupid if he thought-

BAM! Something hit the right side of the van, careening it over. The windshield cracked, and the both of the windows on the doors completely shattered as they rolled, showering the driver with glass. Ratsworth bounced before slamming into the leftside of the van. Cipher grunted as he felt his head whip around before the iced glob thing finally broke off from the floor, flinging Cipher and the remainder of the frozen glob onto the side of the van, breaking off most of the frozen goo thing. Some straps banged on the side, the tank was cracking, green slime was pouring out of the glass -

"AAAUUUUGH!" Ratsworth howled from pain. Taking the opportunity, Cipher quickly began hitting the last of the frozen glob around him with his prosthetic arm.

 _Come on! Shatter!_

His legs were free. Now his arm. The driver was speaking, but the voice was so low and weak, Cipher couldn't hear what they were saying. He turned to look as he punched the ice off of his right arm.

One more hit, c'mon!

The glob finally shattered - he was free - parts of it going everywhere. Pulling himself across the floor, he stood, raising his right arm at the Rat as he squeezed the trigger.

RATTATTATATATATAA!

"Aaaaahhhhh!" Cipher's screaming pierced the air as he dropped again. The shots went straight through his foot and leg, rending his flesh and bone useless. Pain like he'd never felt before shocked through him, like his leg had simultaneously been pierced several times and internally set on fire. Tears formed at his eyes as he felt his leg being destroyed from magic that fueled him. He couldn't speak, couldn't think. Couldn't hear. All he could feel was the fire in his right leg, spreading up into his pelvis and hip. Fire hot pain. Like nothing he'd ever felt before. He could feel it spreading inside of him as the volatile magic from the bullet continued to rupture inside of his leg.

"Cipher!" He could barely hear Bird's voice through the comm and closeby. Oh please, please help -

"Terrorist of Zaun," Ratsworth's voice growled. "Stay for awhile, won't you?"


	8. And the Fire to Make Things Die

"CIPPHEEER!"

Bird's high voice was screeching at him through the darkness. The side of the van - now the floor - had slowly been filling up with that green goop from inside the tank. The shards of the green Zac-like creature were slowly chilling the green slimy liquid, giving him a shallow cool pool of slime to lay in. The coolness of the goop fought with the shock of the wound, the worlds of reality and shock combating who was to take his consciousness.

Something flew past him. Something big. In the corner of his eye, he could see a flurry of brilliant orange.

Bird. She was in her normal nude harpy form. Why was she naked? That's right, she couldn't transform armor or clothes. They had tested that. She was saying something while holding something in her left hand. A dagger. He remembered which one. It was sharp, sharp like the pain. Sweet merciful gods, the pain wasn't stopping. Focus. There was something about that dagger that was very important. Bird was saying something completely incomprehensible, making it glow. The artifact was glowing.

… _. Wait. Here? Now? Wasn't he supposed to -_

One second he was looking at a fierce orange Bird against the side of the van, the next he was looking at muted puddle green-grey sky. A high-pitch screech tore through his ears, shocking him back into reality and out of his stupor.

 _Raiza! No! No no -_ He couldn't afford to lose another person on his team.

 _Get up. Get the fuck up-_

Pushing against the floor, he tore his left arm out of the goop. Right arm. Rolling over before pulling himself onto his belly so he could crawl with his arms, the goop stuck to him, like the consistency of a light honey or syrup. Dark red blood was mixed in. Give up, the pain already has you. No. Fuck no. He needed to get his bearings straight. He needed to see Bird. He looked up.

The van had been torn in two. Bird had fired a powerful point-blank wind spell on the van, pointed directly at Ratsworth. She'd blown him away, pinned him, and cut him into pieces, along with the driver and the rest of the vehicle, tearing it open. In honesty, it was one of the most powerful wind spells he'd ever seen up close. The awe of the moment barely registered through his brain as the pain drew him into delirium. No, focus. Stay here, focus! Such control and accuracy in the midst of combat… the only thing that saved him was that he had been lying down in what was essentially green liquid adhesive. His eyes gazed to his right, searching for his savior.

 _No. Oh no. No no._

Bird was lying on her right side. Her wings were crumbled in a heap. He could see the slow rise and fall of the harpy's torso. Blood was seeping out of her. Summoning what was left of his strength, Cipher used the image of her battered body to power himself up against the goo, struggling with the weight of his damaged leg. The thought of infections briefly entered his mind, but he quickly brushed that aside.

"Ra… Raiza." Cipher coughed, struggling to speak, "Please. *pant* Say something. *huff* Anything. Please."

He pulled himself closer. Up close, he could see the crimson shots along the left side of her ribcage, chest, and and left wing. More wounds were visible too - some scratches on her face, body, blood on her arm and broken wings. Cuts on her legs. Her hand still gripped the dagger. An ancient artifact, she once told him. Passed down by the members of her tribe. Stolen by Noxians. Returned to her people by Piltover. And now…

"I... return…" The harpy's voice was weak, thin. Her breathing was incredibly labored. Cipher grunted, pulling himself closer to hear her words.

"...the… favor…"

"No! Listen, there was never any favor to return-"

"Help… return…. SoulSong... to… my people."

"No, no no. We've worked together for years, we're going to look forward to a few more. Stay here -"

"As I... Raiza... return to the sky."

 _Stay with me._

"Bird! Raiza! NOOOO!"

"I… fly…" Her bright blue eyes glazed over as her soul parted from her mortal form, and flew.


	9. Epilogue: Coupe de Grace

Blurred dark white ceiling. Dim white and blue lights.

His lids closed, then opened again, this time looking across rather than up.

Hextech monitors. A blurred figure to his right. Dark bob hairstyle. Royal purple dress. The figure's head was turned down, looking at something in her lap. Between himself and the figure, he could see the white sheets of the bed he lay in. Something felt off, but he couldn't tell what. Behind her, the hospital curtain was opened enough so he could see two other beds beyond the veil, one of which had its occupant sitting up and the other obscured by curtains. A nurse walked by, opening the curtain and briefly allowing Cipher to see that the occupant was lying down, giving him no clue as to who the occupant was. As his eyes focused, he could see the one sitting up was Whistler, his head wrapped in bandages. A vase with bright flowers was on the nightstand next to him. A woman sat next to him, laying asleep at his legs. He knew her; Whistler's wife. A sigh escaped him. At least… someone else other than him made it out alive.

"...Cipher? Are you awake?"

The man looked over to meet the gaze of the figure who was sitting next to him. Her green tinted pale skin contrasted starkly against her black hair and modern dark red lipstick. Dark, almost soulless eyes were staring through him. It was Jevel. He'll never get used to her eyes, the way they had this thousand yard stare, like she was always distant, unmoved. Like she was observing everything from outside her own body. From the lighting of the hextech monitor, she seemed… different somehow. Older. Another sigh escaped his lips and body. If she was here, it must've been bad.

"How long?"

"Six weeks." Despite her voice being soft, the way she said her words were firm, factual.

"...I meant… how long did it take to save me?"

"Seventy two hou-" Her voice stopped, lips parted slightly, as speech was simply taken out of her throat. She takes a moment to mull over his words. The corners of her mouth twitched slightly before slowly flattening downward.

"...That's…. that is not how my ability works, Night." her voice spoke calmly, "You know that. I did what I had to do to save you and your team." He turned his head away.

An uncomfortable silence lay over them. He could hear the gentle ticking of a clock coming from somewhere, signaling the passing of time. Occasionally he'd hear a cough, or muffled talking from somewhere.

He counted the ticks until he could count no more.

"Report."

A pause.

"Pardon?"

"Who did I lose?" He kept his gaze to the left, away from her. There was no way he could bear to say these words while looking at her impassive face.

"...Cipher, this isn't-"

"How many?" His voice had come out sharper and more demanding than intended. He could feel the lump in his throat growing bigger. "...Just tell me."

The woman sighed, then shuffled through the papers in her lap.

"From Team Alpha. Those who were killed in the line of duty: Raiza "Bird" Wingsong. Gregor "Smokey" Kozlowski. Steven "Driver" Gorski, initially survived but later succumbed to his wounds."

His teeth begin to grit.

"From Team Alpha. Those who were severely wounded. Gavin "Whistler" Hopski, suffered from damage to the head, ribs, and spine while attempting to aide Ramona. He may be paralyzed from the waist down, however his status is marked as pending. Jacob "Terra" Maddock, also suffered… wounds to the chest and arm. His condition is stable. Holly "Psi" Veema suffered cuts, bullet wounds, and shell shock. She was released three days ago. Victor "Howler" Ga- oh. He was also released weeks ago."

She was reading quicker. He could hear her flipping the pages as she spoke. Fuck. His vision had already started to water. A bubble grew inside of him, hating how gentle her voice sounded. It was bad enough to know, but somehow even worse to hear it from her. Her voice was too soft, too cold, too… factual.

"From Team Beta. Those who were killed in the line of duty. Ramona "Sierra" Hahn. Fester "Gamma" Holland. Stephanie "Vapor" Richards. Greg Tev..." A pause. Even without looking, he could feel her alien gaze upon him.

"...I can stop." Resentment stewed in him as she said that.

"No," The man sucked in breath through his teeth, his nostrils failing him as they had clogged with snot.

 _Grit through the tears. You need to hear this. Just don't look at her. Keep going._

"You do not need to hate yourself." she spoke in an almost matter-of-factly yet motherly way.

"I already do!" his voice snapped. His nostrils inhaled, causing an audible snnnrrtt as snot was sucked into the vacuum. Fuck. "Just keep going!"

Jevel sighed.

"Greg "Flamespitter" Tevnikson. Jeffery "Gunman" Menchi, initially survived but succumbed to his wounds. Jennifer "Crescent" Jung and Jessica "River" Jung, both have… well. They've been released but have been visiting. Ziva "Boomer" FireWrench, Marrissa "Cocoa" Mirala and Kevin "Sky" Bakersfield have already been released."

She was skipping details. There was a pause. For a moment, Cipher half expected that she'd tell him another list of names of the people he'd come to work so closely with. Despite the nature of the program, he couldn't feel but to be attached to every single person he'd worked with in the DarkOps.

"I'm sorry. I... didn't want to be the one to tell you."

 _Yeah, right._

"...Night…"

There was a pause in her voice, like a word waiting for the rest of the sentence. Wait, she used his first name. She never did that, unless… Fuck. There was more. He closed his eyes. Pillow was becoming damp. Damn.

"They told me… they told me you're taking time off. Six months. ...Syarri wants to see you."

 _No, don't you dare. Don't you dare mention my daughter's name-_

"I am also… supposed to tell you… well." Her voice shifted. Uncomfortable. Tempted to look.

"We know you wouldn't want to… uh…"

 _Just say it._

"We waited, but we knew you would want her to see you standing on two feet, even if one wasn't your own."

 _...What?_ He looked. So that's why the bed was… oh. He hadn't dreamed it. His eyes blinked to clear the tears from his eyes to see that where his right leg should have been, wasn't there. His eyes watered again. Fuck. Fuck fuck fu-

"I'm... a little surprised you haven't noticed. Probably the drugs. I… um… I'll get tissues." She leaned over to the nightstand next to him, pulling out a drawer and pulling out a tissue box. He turned his head to face her. There was… something in her eyes. Some kind of emotion. It was odd, seeing it on her face. Was it sympathy? Empathy? It was always hard to tell with her. Fuck. He hated talking to her sometimes. She barely had anything he could read. However their superiors had insisted that he'd be the main point of contact for her. Assholes. She probably had requested it, but… he had enough on his plate. He could barely handle talking to her.

"Blow." A tissue was being held in front of his nose. Like he couldn't do it himself. He tried raising his arms, however realized his left prosthetic had been removed and his right arm was far too weak. Sighing, he begrudgingly blew his nose with her help. She tossed the tissue into the trash.

Why the hell was she being so kind?

"If it helps, the mission was considered a success." She held a new tissue in her hand, gently wiping the rest of the moisture from his face, "Piltover has the Anti-Magic weapons in its possession. However, the aftermath, as well as the original blueprints and information regarding his lab, is classified." Of course it was.

"I'll read you the rest of the report later, if you'd like. But not until after you've gone through your letters." He turned his head slightly further. He couldn't believe he'd missed it: various bright flowers crowded the nightstand, almost pouring off the shelf, along with Get Well cards and letters. Water clouded his vision once more. Damn these tears.

"I know you, um… Well. It was rough out there. I can relate. We have some heavy lifting to do, but…" She offered him a small smile. "Welcome back, Night Cipher."


End file.
